Fingers
by The Silver Trumpet
Summary: Diaval and Maleficent have a debate: wings versus fingers. Which is more useful? Toddler Aurora helps them both come to a realization. Can be read as Maleval/Diavicent or just as friendship. K plus because I'm scared.


**A/N: This was an idea that came to me while I was trying and failing to put the finishing touches on Protected. Quite frankly, that story is a lost cause to the point I've gotten it now, and I think many of the readers are going to be quite unhappy. **

**But this is not Protected. This is Fingers. :) It takes place during the scene where toddler Aurora confronts Maleficent and demands to be picked up. Enjoy! Reviews are appreciated but not necessary. (That statement is Author-ese for, "If you're just going to leave a three word review, don't leave one at all." :P I jest, I jest, readers. I love all the reviews. Even the three-word ones.)**

* * *

"They are absolutely useless."

"They are not."

"Tell me," Diaval challenged, crossing his arms, "one thing that fingers can do that wings can't."

Maleficent sighed. This debate had been ongoing between them for nearly half an hour now. She'd tried to her best to escape—walking away to go heal some trees—but he had followed her. A part of her was glad. Though she would never admit it to him, she appreciated his company and his banter. "I've told you. Fingers can write."

He sneered. "I am illiterate, and writing is hideous." He couldn't keep the distaste from his tone. "What kind of art uses feathers?"

"They aren't feathers. They're quills." _Maybe he's off the topic of fingers now_, she thought, hopeful. But he sprang right back on the topic.

"Writing is useless to me. Fingers are useless to me. Your point was moot."

She glared at him. "Fingers are _not_ useless," she insisted. Anything she had come up with thus far was, however, easily refuted by the crow-man. She knew why. Birds didn't have fingers because they didn't need fingers. They had wings because they needed wings. Her stomach turned. He had to know this whole conversation was making her uncomfortable. Perhaps that was why he was pushing it so hard.

"You still haven't come up with something that applies to me."

She tossed her hands into the air. "Because there isn't! You are a bird! If you needed fingers, nature would have given you fingers! I admit defeat; fingers are useless appendages for birds!" Frustration was evident in her tone, frustration and aggravation and anger and something else he couldn't quite identify.

He fell silent. Maleficent thought he was reveling in his victory and turned to glare at him, but his face was not smirking, instead written in deep thought, his coal black eyes distant and subdued. "I apologize, mistress," he murmured. He peered down at his hands, slender digits pale and not often used. He flexed them tentatively, as though trying to think up a purpose for them.

A rustling came from the bushes. In a flick of Maleficent's hand, he flew onto a branch and perched there. She turned to the tree and, noticing a gash in its trunk, healed it quickly. Then the young princess emerged from the undergrowth. She gave a smile of small, crooked teeth. "Hello."

On his branch, Diaval stiffened. He peered from the child to his mistress and back again until Maleficent finally spoke. "Go away." The child came nearer. "Go. Go away." The crow tilted his head. He wondered briefly if he was going to witness the death of the girl, but decided against it. After all, his mistress would not have saved her life the other day from the cliff if she had wanted the girl dead. The blonde stepped closed and hugged about Maleficent's legs. "I don't like children," the fairy protested, trying to step away.

The tender voice came again. "Up, up." And, to his surprise, the fairy complied, scooping the child up into her arms. The child's hands, her fingers, latched on to the fairy's horns. She pulled at them, as though expecting them to fall away like a hat, but as they didn't move, her touch wandered down to the feathered collar of her robe. Blue eyes met green for a moment, and Maleficent lowered the girl back to the ground. She turned and wandered back into the forest.

After a long pause, she blinked to the crow. "Fingers can be used to explore the world, Diaval. They touch things. They change things. Sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. Fingers cause sensations." She hadn't realized that the magic had floated from her hands. He dropped to the ground beside her with a heavy grunt. "Look at you. Breaking branches wherever you venture." She repaired the tree with caution, ignoring the plaintive look his coal black eyes gave her.

Finally, he spoke. "Fingers, mistress?" He extended his forefinger to hers.

Her lips curled into a slight smile. "Fingers, Diaval." She let her slender digit coil around his. He smiled. They headed back to the cottage together.


End file.
